A Telling Mark
by Johijoha
Summary: Downton Abbey is in mourning after the untimely demise of Matthew Crawley, when suddenly a nightly visitor changes everything. Set two weeks after Season 3 finale and very AU-ish from there.
1. Chapter 1

**A Telling Mark**

 _I have no idea why, but right now, I'm completely obsessed with period dramas. First there was P &P and now Downton Abbey took me in again. In addition to my obsession with period dramas there is one more obsession I have. I have not yet used it in a story ever, but I always imagine it. I know it's a cheating plot devise, but whatever. XD_

 _I have to admit I never quite recovered from Matthew's death. I loved the character and I loved his relationship with Mary. Watching on after his tragic death was just so hard for me. Tony is fine enough I guess, but still, I like my romances happily ever after, at least in fantasy if not in real life._

 _Another point is, I always regretted that they had a six month gap between season 3 and 4. I know we had the desperation the sorrow and the pain after Sybil's death, but somehow I always wanted to see the initial reactions to Matthew's death._

 _This story is set two weeks after Matthew's accident/George's birth (so much for initial reaction :P)_

 _As always please rate and review_

 _And of course, nothing about Downton Abbey belongs to me._

* * *

Downton Abbey was asleep, had been for the last two weeks. Where laughter and joy should have been, silence filled the halls. Where busy working noise was supposed to be, only apathy was found. Lady Sybil's death a mere year ago had thrown Downton Abbey into mourning. Matthew Crawley's death had paralyzed it. Only the bare minimum of work had been done ever since. Everyone tiptoed and it was only spoken in whispers.

Who could have imagined such a reaction not even ten years ago when the young middle class man had come to the Abbey, suddenly the heir, the hope, the future. They had watched him learn and adapt, had watched him grow into his own and into his future role as Earl Grantham. They had seen him broken during the war, had seen him recover. And they had been witness to the extraordinary love story between Matthew Crawley and their very own Lady Mary. They had suffered and hoped, cried and rejoiced with them and the whole house had been in an uproar when they finally had found their way back to each other after all the pain, suffering and miscommunication. The birth of their child should have been the perfect fulfillment of they happiness. Instead it had become the bitter tragic ending.

Lady Mary had hardly shown any reaction since her return from the little country hospital, the little bundle who was now the rightful heir to Downton Abbey in her arms. She didn't cry, she didn't scream, she didn't speak. She had put on a black dress and walked the halls of Downton like a silent ghost. Ever so often stopping in some random place of the house or grounds, staring into thin air, but never showing any reaction. A bench in the park, the top of the staircase, the front lawn and every time in front of her former bedroom, a room she had not entered since her return.

Little George was left to the care of others. His mother hardly ever looking at him. Or so it seemed.

Every night, Lady Mary's feet let her to the nursery where she stood for hours and hours looking at the sleeping child in the crib. Her son. Matthew's son! All that was left of her beloved husband was this tiny life. And every night that thought overwhelmed her anew. How could she, how would she manage? Raising her child without him seemed impossible. He was the kind one, the sweet one, the caring one … she was just …

She knew her family was worried about. Everyone was! She only pretended not to see the looks they gave her. It was easier that way. If they thought she didn't see, they didn't bother her so much. It was like they were holding their breaths waiting for her to break down.

Every time she turned around Carson was never too far away from her, ready to help as soon as she needed it and if he could not be near, there was always Anna. Sweet, kind, caring Anna. She had been with Mary when they told her about Matthew's death and had hardly left her side ever since. Only after she had spoken to Bates, had Anna agreed to at least leave her alone at night and return home with her husband.

Papa spent most of his time buried in work, trying to distract himself, but every time her looked at her, she saw him fighting tears. His eyes glassy and red and he disappeared almost immediately back to drown in his paperwork. Matthew's death had shattered the usually so proud and collected man.

It had surprised Mary to see how much Matthew's death had affected her only remaining sister, but maybe she was doing her injustice in this case, both of them. Edith had always been the ugly ducking of the family, lacking Mary's good looks and quick mind and Sybil's charm and liveliness, but Matthew had always supported her and tried to defend her against her family. His loss had awoken a unexpected strength in Edith. She seemed determined to make him proud, now more than ever. She had almost single handedly organized the funeral, received all the messages of condolence and managed the oceans of flowers people still dropped of at the house. It had come as something of a shock to realize just how well liked, almost loved, and respected Matthew had really been in the village.

And Granny … Granny had been, for the first time Mary could remember, speechless. No witty comments, no dry humor. If Sybil's death had aged her, Matthew's death now brought her almost to the brink of death. Every time she came around, Mary wondered with a weirdly detached curiosity, how long she might survive after this.

The other servants were worried too, she knew. Mrs. Patmore constantly cooked her favorite food and Daisy always made sure to put one of the flowers onto the tray. Mrs. Hughes made sure that Mary was never disturbed about anything. She tried to support her as good as possible.

Isobel had tried to talk to Mary about Matthew, but she couldn't face it. The other woman's obvious pain about her lost child was too raw. She didn't want to confront it, she couldn't. The first time it had happened, the day of her return to Downton, she desperately wanted to flee the room but didn't know how, when suddenly Thomas had dropped the tea cup he was about to hand Isobel into her lap. Mary had taken the chance and fled. Ever since that day Thomas's new found clumsiness had saved her from more than one unwanted conversation.

Worse than Isobel's pain was her own mother's pity. Cool, composed Cora. She had never cared too much about Matthew. Had never truly understood Mary's attachment to him. For her the marriage had mostly been one of convenience, making sure that her oldest child would get what was always supposed to be hers if it hadn't been for that cursed entail. And the fact that the foremost emotion in her eyes now was pity, was proof of that. Mary however could already see the wheels turn in her head. Only yesterday had she overheard her parents. They had argued. Apparently Cora was already considering possible future husbands for her newly widowed daughter. After all a boy needed a father, didn't he? After two weeks! At the moment Mary downright hated her mother!

Her eyes travelled over her son's beautiful face. She could only hope, her own child would never feel about her the way she felt about her own mother right now. Matthew had said, she would be a wonderful mother, but how could she? Without him? He was the one who had brought out her softer sides, he had always seen the best in her even when nobody else not even herself had seen it. His love had made her a better person. She had meant what she had said to him. She always wanted to be his Mary Crawley, but how could she, if he wasn't around to remind her who that was? She wasn't sure she still knew.

Suddenly the door to the nursery opened. Startled she spun around. It was Tom. He smiled at her, apparently not surprised to see her. Quietly he closed the door behind him and walked over to Sybbie's crib. He softly stroke the little girls cheek and readjusted her blanket.

Tom had hardly said anything to her in the last two weeks. He had left her alone, never imposing, never pressuring. But she knew he would be there without a second thought, should she need him. After all from all the people in the house he was the only one who truly understood what she was going through.

Mary was about to return to her own thoughts and her own child, when he finally spoke. "You come here every night. You stare at him, but you never pick him up. Not even when he wakes. Why?"

Surprised she looked up. "How do you know?"

"The nanny told me after the first time. She wouldn't be a very good nanny if she didn't realize someone was coming into the nursery every night. So why?"

Mary didn't answer at first.

"Why, Mary?" he gentle asked.

"I can't! Don't you see that it's better for him when I stay away? I don't feel anything. I don't cry, I don't scream. I know I should, but I can't. I should be sad, but I'm not. I don't have a heart and I don't want him to grow up with a mother like that. Without Matthew I'm not a good person, I can't be a mother. He deserves better than that."

Tom sighed heavily. "Of course you can be a good mother and, of course, you have a heart."

"How can you say that?" her voice now almost shrill. The two little children squirming uncomfortable in their sleep but settling down again after a moment.

"In fact, I believe you have a very big heart. Which is exactly why you feel nothing." he continued as if she hadn't said anything.

"Don't be absurd."

"Feelings are a funny thing. Too much of them can make you numb. Sometimes you have to push them away to go on. But it will come the time, the right time for you, to let them all out. And when that time comes you will realize they have been there all along, you just weren't able to deal with them until that exact moment. So, don't blame yourself too much. You love your son, and you will be able to show him. When you're ready."

She stayed silent.

"You're already doing it right. If seeing George with other people present is too painful than keep coming here at night. Just don't stop interacting with him or it will come the time when you will regret it."

Sybbie whined in her sleep. Tom leaned over her and whispered loving nothingness at her until she calmed down again with Mary watching him thoughtfully. She looked at George. So sweet, so beautiful, so peaceful. Suddenly he opened his eyes and looked right at her. They were blue! Just like his father's. How come she had never realized that before? Slowly his sleepy face broke into a big grin. A small squeal escaped his lips and he wiggled in his crib his small chubby arms reaching for his mother. For the first time since Matthew's death she let herself look at him, truly look at him. And just a little bit of the love she knew she should feel filled her heart. Slowly she leaned over him and picked him up. Holding him close to her chest, she took in his scent, a single tear escaping and running down her cheek.

Tom from the other side of the room watched her, a little smile on his lips.

Suddenly a the door bell rang, rudely interrupting the night sleep of Downton's residents and waking little Sybbie.

* * *

 _I'm sorry to say, I have not idea how fast infants develop, but I suspect after two weeks little George would not yet be as active as I made him out to be. I apologize for that, but somehow it made the scene more relatable for me. So in this case emotionality won over reality. ^^_

 _Well, now that I have established some of the reactions and changed the relationships, the story can begin … probably._

 _What did you think of my ideas? Do you think I was too harsh about Cora? Or made Edith and Thomas too nice?_

 _Please let me know your thoughts I'm looking forward to them. And also, I don't have a beta and english is not my first language so I hope you forgive me all my mistakes. If they are to grave, let me know, so I can learn from them._


	2. Chapter 2

_Well, I only got very few reactions, but nevertheless the idea stuck with me and before it drives me completely insane and endangers my academic future, I decided to continue it anyway, just to get it out of my system. ^^_

 _As always, nothing belongs to me but please still rate and review._

* * *

Lord Grantham lay awake in his bed. He couldn't sleep. Hadn't really slept in the last two weeks. Not since he went to see his daughter in the hospital to relay the terrible, horrible news of Matthew's death.

She had been so happy. Never had he seen her like that, so content with her life, so peaceful … so blissful. He loved his daughters dearly, all of them, but he had never been blind to their mistakes and Mary, his Mary, had always been so proud, almost cold, and stubborn. Oh she could be the most charming person in the room if she set her mind to it, but usually she didn't consider other people her equal, be it in looks, charm, intelligence or wit and she got impatient and bored with people she felt were inferior very easily. And then Patrick had died and Matthew came into their lives. Never had anyone riled Mary up the way her cousin did. Her comments had been more than rude on many occasion. And Matthew? Matthew had just been himself. And after a while, distaste and anger turned into affection and finally love. But so much had come between them. The sorry affaire with Mr. Pamuk, Cora's sudden pregnancy, the war, Lavinia, Richard Carlile, Matthew's injury, Lavinia's unfortunate death. So much pain and sorrow and yet, loving Matthew had made Mary so much softer, so much kinder. Seeing her kindness towards Lavinia despite her own broken heart, seeing her taking care of Matthew after his injury had made that very clear to Robert. Loving Matthew had made Mary a better person and it had made Robert love the young man more than he already did.

Robert had realized almost right from the first moment he had met Matthew in London that the two of them would make a fantastic match, and not just because of convenience. Matthew's intelligence and wit had been more than equal to Mary's and he had thought his kindness might do his daughter good. For this reason just as much as to secure his daughter's material future, he had almost pushed them towards each other. But then, of course, he should have known better. The more the family pushed the more Mary was determined to despise Matthew. If she had just opened her eyes to see, really see, the man in front of her instead of letting the expectations of her family stand in her way. Such a stubborn child. Maybe he should have tried to get Edith and Matthew together. The competition between the two girls would have made sure that Mary pursued him and Matthew had been much too attracted to Mary to refuse her. So much might have been different. Maybe the Pamuk incident would have never happened. Matthew and Mary could have been married for years. They might already have two, three or even four children. And Matthew, his dear dear boy, would not have been in that cursed car on that cursed country road. He might still be alive. If only Robert had understood his daughter better. How he wished, he had acted differently.

Instead he had had to destroy the happiness on his daughter's face. It was like watching all life drain out of her. All the softness disappeared from her eyes and the steel from the days of her youth returned. She had turned little George over to Anna and hadn't looked at him for the rest of the day.

It was frightening to see her like this, as if she herself was dead too. She was still there and yet she was not and Robert was worried she might never return.

Oh, how he missed Matthew! When he had been missing during the war, Robert had gotten a glimpse of how much the young man really meant to him, but nothing could have prepared him for the emptiness the gaping hole in his heart. In the beginning it had all bean about the future of Downton. Matthew needed to learn, needed to know. But he had become so much more than just the heir, so much more than Patrick had ever been. He had become the son, Robert never had and he missed him dearly!

Sighing he turned on his side and looked at Cora. She was sleeping. Blissfully ignorant of the thoughts that haunted her husband. He loved his wife and he was thankful for all the years they had spent together and yet, at the moment, he felt so alone. Cora knew, of course, how much he had cared for Matthew, but she didn't really understand. She didn't understand the depth of his feelings or of her daughter's feelings for that matter. She had liked Matthew, he was sure of that, but he hadn't really been part of _her_ family. Not in her heart anyway. Robert didn't want to be angry with her for it, but he couldn't help it. Too clear in his mind, were all the times she had shown her lacking regard for Matthew. When she had tried to break the entail, when she had tried to separate him and Mary after his injury by bringing Lavinia back, when she wanted to kick him out of the house after the war. He knew most of it had been out of love for Mary, he knew, he shouldn't blame her and yet he did. He tried to understand her actions. He really did. But when she had suggested to invite some old friends to get all their minds of things, all he could hear, was that their would be young man among them. Young man to take Mary's mind of Matthew. Potential future husbands for Mary. Potential replacements for Matthew. She might not even have meant it this way, but it was all he could hear and think of. Cora wanted to replace Matthew, only two weeks after his death. He had been so angry with her! Never before had they had such a heated argument. Afterwards they hadn't spoken the rest of the day and ever since Cora made sure not to speak about anything concerning the future to him.

He sighed again and turned on his back. How he wished he could finally fall asleep! He closed his eyes only listening to the sounds of the sleeping house. Slowly he started to drift of when a sudden noise woke him up. He started up confused waking Cora in the process.

"What is it?"

"I believe someone rang the door bell." Lord Grantham finally realized.

His wife turned around and hid her face in her pillow a tired groan. "I told you, it was a bad idea to install this new nonsense."

Lord Grantham waited listening intently, but nothing. The bedroom was too far away from the main hall. Slowly he slipped out of the bed and pulled over a bathrobe.

"Robert, what are you doing? Carson will take care of this." she looked at him slightly annoyed.

"Maybe, but I can't sleep anyway. I will see for myself. You stay here." he mumbled and slipped out of the room.

He walked down the hallway towards the entrance. He passed Matthew and Mary's old bedroom, Edith's bedroom, Tom's bedroom. When he passed the nursery the door opened. Tom and Mary came out, both carrying their now awake children.

"What happened?" Tom asked.

"I don't know", his father-in-law answered. "I was just about to find out."

Behind them two more doors opened and Edith and Cora joined them.

Together they approached the main hall. They could hear low voices.

"What is this, Mr. Carson?" they recognized Mrs. Hughes's voice.

"Not to worry, Mrs. Hughes. I will take care of it. You can go back to bed." the old butler assured the housekeeper.

"Hardly, Mr. Carson, the door bell is rather loud. Now that I'm awake I might as well just stay. Who is this girl?" she questioned.

The family reached the main hall and stared surprised at the scene before them.

There were Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes, both clearly wearing their nightgowns and only covered up by bathrobes before them stood a young girl of not more than fifteen years. Her cloths were of good quality but clearly well used and slightly to small for the girl. Her face was flushed and she stared at the two servants in front of her like a scared dear.

"What is going on here, Carson?" Lord Grantham interrupted them when he reached the foot of the staircase.

"I was just about to find out, Mylord."

If possible the realization, who was standing in front of her, made the girl look even more panicked. Her eyes searched frantically for an escape, but by now the other servants had arrived in the hall as well and Thomas had closed the door behind her, effectively cutting off her escape route.

"Now! I hope you have a very good reason to disturb his lordship's night rest!" Carson turned to her. The girl stepped back scared.

"Mr. Carson, you are clearly not helping." Mrs. Hughes had mercy and the girl. She gently took the frightened girl's arm. "Now dear, what is your name?" She decided one step after the next would be the easiest method to get answers.

"Ally, Ma'am." her voice was very shaky, but Mrs. Hughes presence seemed to calm her down at least a bit. Still she decidedly avoided looking at the Crawley family.

"Ally, all right then. And why did you come here?" Mrs. Hughes continued clearly satisfied that she was making progress and hoping she could return to bed very soon.

"Because … because the Miss said so." she answered.

"The Miss? What Miss?" Lord Grantham started. She looked at him frightened but he smiled at her encouragingly.

"I don't know, Sir … Mylord, sorry, Mylord. She just came to our house with her driver, I think,and said I should ride here as fast as possible. You see, I'm the best rider in my family. Everyone says that. And Hannibal would let only me ride him. He's our fastest horse." slowly the girl found her confidence and proudly stretched her chest out at this explanation even smiling slightly.

"And why did this miss sent you here, Ally?" Lord Grantham continued getting impatient with the slow process but still curiously intrigued by the mystery of the event.

"Oh, yes!" Ally was so distracted by the whole situation, being in such a big house and in the presence of such important people and all, that she had almost forgotten, why she came in the first place. "Because of the injured man, of course!"

* * *

 _Yes, I know, it is kind of mean to end it here, but I wanted to tell the next part out of the Situation of Edith, so here I must stop._

 _So by now, some of you … well most of you have probably already guessed what direction the story will take, but bare with me. Thoughts must be thought and feelings must be felt before I can continue. And it will take some time until all questions are answered._

 _This chapter didn't exactly turn out the way I wanted it to. I expected to progress with the story itself a lot faster, but than Lord Grantham's thoughts kind of developed their own life. I think he really is the kind of man, who would blame himself for Matthew's death. Going over and over every detail of the past every decision that might have changed the course of the past. This was just one example. Maybe I'll pick up this train of thought later on again._


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks for the follows, that is really encouraging. XD_

 _So, right into chapter three. As promised this time a little more Edith. I'm not entirely sure why everybody seemed to dislike her in the first couple of seasons. I always had kind of a soft spot for her. Most of her bad behavior and mistakes come from being constantly ignored or underestimated by her family. So a little look into Edith.(completely uncanon, of course, since she is way to giddy, but I wanted a character with this kind of emotional reaction and I somehow don't see anyone else have it, so Edith it is :P)_

 _As always, nothing belongs to me (except Abby and the unknown 'Miss' and whatever other character I will come up with, yes there is already one lying in waiting. :P)_

 _Please rate and review._

* * *

Stunned silence filled the entrance hall of Downton Abbey.

"Injured man?" Lady Edith finally spoke up.

She instantly slipped back into her war-routine. Subconsciously she knew why. She had missed having a purpose. Sure writing for Michael was rewarding, but she had enjoyed seeing the immediate effect her actions had on other people's lives. The soldiers, though broken and traumatized, had always been so thankful and she felt like she made a difference to them. So hearing about an injured man, she was already silently listing all the things that had to be done before he arrived.

"Yes!" the young girl, Ally, continued. "You see, we found him, that is, my brother did. And than the Miss came and she said we had to bring him here. She said, she would need a clean and warm room with a bed, fresh linen, clean water, hot and cold, and some medication … what was it again? Morphine because he is in so much pain, but I can't believe that, he hasn't been awake once since Patrick, that's my brother, brought him home. Oh, and she wanted something against infections and something to lower his fever."

Lady Edith nodded encouragingly for her to continue, checking of everything on her own mental list, slightly frowning at the mention of high doses of morphine.

"Now, just a moment! We're not a hospital! We can't just accept some random man in our house!" Lady Grantham interrupted. "Take him to the next hospital and let us return to bed."

"Oh but we tried that, Mylady. The hospital is full again. Something about a new outbreak of flue and they don't accept new patients." Ally explained to the grand lady. "And father didn't have the time or money to go to the next hospital, so Mama just took care of him at home, that is until the Miss came."

"Still, that is no reason to come here. Lady Grantham is right, we are not a hospital anymore. Carson, please make sure Miss Ally returns safely to where ever she came from." Lord Grantham ordered.

"Very well, Mylord." the old butler agreed with a bow.

The young girl was clearly very worried about the prospect of being turned away. "What?! But no! You can't! The Miss said, you would take him! What are we supposed to do? They are already on their way here?!" she stammered helpless.

"But, Papa, Mama, it's in the middle of the night. Surly if this man is already on his way here, we can not just sent them away again." Lady Edith pleaded with her parents.

"That's entirely out of the question, I'm afraid! Now, back to bed all of you!" Lady Grantham strictly refused.

Mary and Tom with the children in their arms, and Lady Grantham turned around and wanted to make their way back up the stairs, while Carson directed the girl towards the door. Edith watched helpless. Somehow she had a dreadful feeling that this was a mistake. A terrible mistake!

Suddenly the girl turned around again. "Wait! The Miss said something else. She said, if you wouldn't help us, I should tell you, he has a weird birthmark on his back!"

Edith saw out of the corner of her eye, how Mary froze on the steps. Following an instinct she turned to Carson. "One moment, Carson!" And then to the girl. "A mark you say? What kind of mark?"

Ally nodded vigorously. "Yes, that's what she said. I haven't seen it myself, because mother always sent me outside. But the Miss said, it was some kind of flower ..." Edith could hear her sister gasp for air in shock and come slowly back down the stairs. "... and, and … a cross! That's it! A cross and a flower on one of his shoulder blades. But I don't remember which one." she concluded, slightly disappointed with herself.

"The left." Mary whispered breathless.

Confused everyone looked at Mary. "Darling, how do you know that?" Cora went to her daughter's side, but Mary drew back. A hurt expression flashed on her mother's face.

Edith didn't need to ask, she just knew. It was impossible! He was dead! They had buried him! And yet she knew it was true. No other man ever had or ever would make her older sister react the way she just had. In the end it didn't even matter how it was possible, just that it was!

Excitedly she turned to Mrs. Hughes. "Mrs. Hughes, prepare the bedroom and get everything Ally asked for, and hurry!" She turned to Ally. "When will they be here?!"

"I don't know, Mylady. They left the same time, I did. Of course, they need to take the road and can't just go over the fields but then again they have the Misses car. So probably soon!"

"Very well! I will get to the village and get Dr. Clarkson." she almost ran towards the door, completely forgetting that she was still in her nightgown. She hardly registered, her father angrily calling after her, what this was all about and Mary whispering just one name in answer.

The large entrance door closed behind her and Edith ran as fast as she could to the garage. She jumped into the car. Once again she was so thankful that Tom had taught her to drive all those years ago.

She drove as fast as she could possibly allow herself without risking her life. How ironic would it be, if she would die trying to get to get Dr. Clarkson. A slightly hysterical laugh came over her lips. Almost as ironic as a new father dying in a car crash trying to deliver the happy news to his family. But it hadn't happened! There was a god in this world after all! She knew if there was, he couldn't be so cruel as to take Matthew from them, after everything they had already been through. Patrick, the war, Sybil. She laughed again. No! Matthew was not dead! He couldn't be! The way Mary had reacted. These marks, whatever they were, Matthew definitely had them and how big was the chance that another man had the same marks and was injured at roughly the same time and place, and someone thought it was right to bring them to Downton. Which led to the next question. Who was this 'Miss'? And how did she know Matthew good enough to know about these marks? And how did she find him?

Edith fiercely shock her head. It didn't matter! All questions could be answered later. Now it was only important to get Dr. Clarkson and make sure that Matthew would be all right. What the girl, Ally, had said didn't sound too encouraging. But if he really was alive … her father would be so pleased! He could stop hiding in his study. He and mother would talk again. Mary would be her old self again, or rather, her new self.

She would never admit it, but she missed that Mary. She and her older sister had never been close. They were just too different and they had never been able to overcome these differences. Edith knew she was just as much to blame for that as Mary, but that didn't make it any easier to bare. Sybil's death, for a time, had made them closer and even after growing apart again, it had never been as bad again, as before. Despite what she said, she truly liked Matthew's Mary and it had crushed her to see the old Mary come back from the hospital. After the news of Matthew's death she had selfishly hoped that this might be a way for her to really connect with Mary, for them to become real sister, real friends. Yes, she had always envied her, but she had also admired her. But as soon as she thought it, she had been ashamed of herself, and Mary's return had destroyed any hope in that direction anyway. So instead she had tried to be as helpful as she could be. Helpful! That was, after all, her only value in this family, always had been. But it didn't hurt anymore, the way it had hurt when she was younger. Being helpful was nothing to be ashamed of, the war had taught her that. No, she was proud to be helpful to her family, to Mary, in any way she could. And if it was only by organizing the funeral. She hadn't gotten any thanks for it, but she hadn't expected it, and she didn't need it, not anymore. She had learned her own worth. Thanks to the war, thanks to Tom, thanks to Michael and, yes, thanks to Matthew, who had been the first to encourage her in being herself.

She stopped the car in front of Dr. Clarkson's house and ran up to the door. There was no bell, so she started pounding the door. She kept knocking until suddenly a very angry older woman opened the door.

"What in god's … Oh, Lady Edith, I'm so sorry ..." Dr. Clarkson's housekeeper mumbled surprised.

"Lady Edith." Dr. Clarkson came down the stairs in pyjamas and stared at her completely stunned. Slowly he looked her over, taking in her wide smile and her more than inappropriate appearance. "Lady Edith, whatever happened?"

"Oh, Dr. Clarkson! You have to come to the Abbey. Quickly! And bring morphine and something against infections and against fever! And hurry! It's Matthew!"

"Oh." he looked he mumbled understanding a pityingly look in his eyes. To be honest he had expected something like this to happen. He just hadn't expected it to be Lady Edith, rather her sister or her father. "Lady Edith, why don't you come inside and Mrs. Woods will make you some tea." He gently took her arm, but she tore her arm away again.

"No, you don't understand! I'm not insane." Edith tried to convince the doctor. It might not have been the best idea to tell him the truth. She should have just pretended her father was sick. But she had been so excited and now it was too late.

"Of course, you're not. It's completely normal to go through such a phase in the grieving process ..." The doctor agreed and tried again to lead her into his house.

"No! I'm serious! Come to the Abbey, now! I don't know, who we buried instead of Matthew and I don't know how this happened, but he is alive! Some farmers found him and now they brought him to Downton! But he needs a doctor!" It wasn't really a surprise, he didn't believe her. She came in the middle of the night, only wearing her nightgown and babbled of a dead man needing medicine.

Dr. Clarkson hesitated momentarily. "You saw him?"

Edith didn't think and just nodded in agreement. She didn't believe God would hold this little lie against her if it meant getting Dr. Clarkson to the Abbey faster and saving Matthew.

Dr. Clarkson was speechless. He almost sprinted up the stairs and returned minutes later fully clothed and with a packed bag of medical equipment.

The drive back was surprisingly quiet. Edith concentrated on the dark road, determined to get Dr. Clarkson to the Abbey as fast and safe as possible and refusing to think of anything else.. And Dr. Clarkson was agonizing over the question, how this could have happened without anyone realizing before and wondering what might await him at the Abbey.

* * *

 _And again, longer (the longest yet) and slower than expected. Next up is Tom … or maybe rather Cora? Or how about one of the servants? What do you think?_

 _How about it? Do you think Edith is right in her conclusion and the unknown injured man really is Matthew? And if he is, how will Mary react? And how the rest of the family? Isobel? And what if he isn't? And who is the 'Miss'? I just realized I have yet to include Rose somewhere as well … any suggestions?_

 _Please let me know. And always rate and review. I seriously live for reviews! Read you soon. xD_


	4. Chapter 4

_And Tom it is! Such a little rebel, but somehow I think Matthew's death would affect him very much and so would his sudden resurrection. :P_

 _Wow, already chapter four. I'm sorry, it took me longer to upload, but something came up at work and I got delayed._

 _As always, nothing belongs to me (except for Ally and three more characters in this chapter :P)_

 _Please rate and review._

* * *

Tom Branson had always considered himself an ordinary man. Pure coincidence had let him to Downton Abbey and to Sybil. His beautiful wife. Even after their marriage he had not expected his life to change much. Sybil was willing to accept and support his political convictions and his new found career. They had been happy in Dublin, but then everything had changed. First he learned he would never be able to return to Ireland without being imprisoned and possibly executed and no matter how important the cause was to him, his family's safety was more important. But then … then the most terrible thing imaginable happened and his Sybil died giving birth to their wonderful daughter and everything had come crushing down after that. He hadn't known what to do anymore, where to go, who to trust. Going with his brother to Liverpool had seemed like a good idea at the time but having him come to Downton, had awoken doubts in him. Did he really want his sweet little girl to grow up with a drunk around? Was that what Sybil had wanted? How was he supposed to raise her anyway, all alone, without his wife? A girl needed a mother, didn't she? All these doubts and had tortured him and there had also been his in-laws. He knew Lord Grantham did not approve of him, he had accepted the situation, but he had not approved of it and sometimes Tom wondered if he blamed him for Sybil's death. After all, had he not married her, she would not have had a child and she would not have died. Lady Grantham doted on her granddaughter but she only seemed to accept him for her granddaughter's sake. Mary and Edith had both been reserved in the beginning and only after Sybil's death did they seem to warm up to him. Of all the family he had felt most accepted by the Dowager Countess. There were no secrets with the old lady. Tom knew exactly what she thought of him and made no secret of it. Her first priority was her family. And once you were family, you had her loyalty. Tom had become part of this feeling the moment he got married to Sybil. The old lady might approve of things her family did, and she never made a secret of her feelings, but she stood with her family without condition and that was something Tom admired greatly in her. But truly welcomed, truly connected he had only felt to Matthew. They both had been outsiders, they both had felt as such. They both had to fight for what they wanted and for the women they loved and that had forged a strong bond between them. After Sybil's death Matthew had given him distraction and a new purpose by including him in his plans for Downton, that more than anything had helped him to deal with the situation.

After Matthew's death, Tom was determined to do for Mary, what Matthew had done for him. Giving her a purpose, but he also knew, it was too soon. So he was prepared to wait for the right moment and meanwhile made sure she knew, he was there for her, should she need it.

He had heard how Cora and Robert argued about Mary's lack of interest in her son and he too had been worried, but than the nanny had come to him. Mary was interested in her son, she just didn't show it in front of everyone. Every night she slipped into the nursery, just to look at him. Tom had been relieved and satisfied to leave her be. But this night he had decided it was time to speak to her.

And now, suddenly, without any warning sign, here they were. Standing in the middle of the entrance hall of Downton Abbey. Edith had just ran out of the door, almost laughing, completely ignoring her father's angry question, when Mary mumbled the one name he had never expected to hear again in connection with a living man.

"Matthew."

Shock silenced the people present. Mary didn't seem to realize it, she didn't seem to realize anything around her. She pressed little George against her chest, almost to tightly, and blindly stared ahead.

Her father gently touched her shoulder, tears raising in his eyes. "Mary, Matthew is dead. We buried him."

She looked at him wide eyed. "I know, but Matthew had a mark like that on his left shoulder. A birthmark that looked like a flower and a scar shaped like a cross. How is this possible, Papa?"

Everyone stared at her incredulously.

"Dear god!" Mrs. Hughes whispered as the impact of this realization hit her. Clearly unsure how to proceed she looked to the family for an answer but they were all to wrapped up in their own thoughts. Lady Grantham speechless, Lord Grantham angry and Lady Mary lost. Finally she turned to Tom. They looked at each other wonderously until Tom gave her a short nod. She signaled two of the maids to follow her and disappeared upstairs to prepare a room as Lady Edith had requested.

"No! That's impossible! Matthew is dead! I saw his body!" Robert just couldn't fathom it or maybe he wasn't willing to go through the hope only to have it crushed again later. Whatever it was, Tom felt obliged to comment.

"So did I, but what was there really to see?" carefully he glanced at Mary. Was she ready to hear this? It was impossible to say, her usual mask had slipped back in place, unmoving, cold, and hid all possible emotions. "All that was really recognizable was the hair color and the general size. Matthew is hardly the only blond man of his size in England. And they never did find the wedding band! Maybe it wasn't stolen after all, maybe the man we buried just wasn't Matthew to begin with." And it was true. Tom and his father-in-law had been called to identify the body. Unfortunately Isobel had demanded to come with them. How Tom wished later they had not allowed it. The picture had been gruesome. Quite honestly there hadn't been much to identify Matthew by. The body had been trapped completely under the car. Almost every bone in the body had been crushed. All that was recognizable was, that it was a man in the right age with blond hair and cloths that could have been Matthew's. When they didn't find the wedding band, they thought it might have been lost in the accident or stolen by one of the men at the scene, but what if it hadn't? What if Matthew hadn't been alone in the car, if he had a passenger?

A stubborn undeniable hope grew within Tom. Matthew alive! It would be so right!

He turned to Ally, who was still standing with Carson waiting for a reaction.

"Ally. Can you describe the man your brother found for me?"

She looked at him and blushed slightly. "Of course, Mylord ..."

"Oh no, it's just Mr. Branson."

She smiled. "Mr. Branson" she agreed. "When Patrick found him he was really not pretty to look at. Full of dirt and blood and all. But after mother cleaned him … well he has blond hair and blue eyes. He is, I guess, about as tall as you, Mr. Branson. He has soft hands, not like a farmer, not like Patrick and father. Oh and mother said, he has a nasty looking scar right on his back. She said, he might have been injured in the war."

"That's five out of five."

"But it doesn't proof anything!" Lord Grantham disagreed.

"No, but it is a possibility and we will have proof as soon as he is here." Tom tried to calm down his father-in-law unfortunately not to much avail.

"Can this really be?" Cora mumbled aghast.

"It can and it is." a unknown voice answered from the door. A man, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties stood in the door.

"And you would be?" Carson asked taken aback and annoyed by yet another unwelcome nightly visitor.

"The driver!" Ally volunteered happy to help.

"Indeed, I'm the driver." he agreed. "I hope you haven't just been standing around here. She won't be happy, if she doesn't get what she wants."

"No", again Ally answered. "One of the ladies drove to get the doctor and medicine and I think the housekeeper is preparing the room right now."

"Good. Now we need a door."

"A door?"

"Yes, a door, preferably a light on. Unless, of course, you have a medical stretcher hidden somewhere here. Matthew really is in no condition to walk and it would be better if we didn't move him to much. We wouldn't want to risk another spinal injury." His eyes searched the hall until they fell to a small hidden door leading the way to the servants quarters. "This will do nicely." With only a few well executed movements, he had removed the door from its angles and hurried outside again.

Speechless everyone followed. Who was this man? How did he know Matthew? How did he know about his spinal injury?

In front of the house a very impressive car was parked. It was large and obviously the newest design. Inside the cabin a small electrical light was burning. The driver carried the door to the side of the car. Another man had just left it and looked up. Seeing Ally he winked at her.

"Who is he?" Tom asked her.

"My brother Patrick." she answered.

They watched as The two men carefully lifted a body from the back of the car. At last a woman emerged. Her beautiful silk dress was crinkled and dirty, the long blonde hair had slipped out under her modish hat and fell into her face. None of it seemed to bother her at all. She was obviously a rich woman but her attention was solely focused on the still body. She leaned over him and touched his forehead, wearing a serious expression.

"Damn it! The fever is acting up! Get him inside, now!" Her voice left no room for argument and neither her driver nor Ally's brother apparently intended to give one. They carried the small door inside the house.

Tom hadn't dared to get closer swaying between hope and dread. What if it was Matthew? Or worse, what if it was not? When they passed him, he didn't dare to look at the man's face. But hearing Robert's shocked exclamation and feeling Cora's sudden hard grip on his arm made him look up.

There he was! He was dressed in old fading pyjamas and his legs seemed to be broken. His face showed cuts and many fading bruise. Between he bandages around his head the blond hair showed. But it was unmistakeably Matthew Crawley. He was alive!

Quickly everyone followed inside. Cora and Robert, the servants, at last Tom, with a now wide awake and curious Sybbie on his arm. He was about to enter the house, when he stopped. Mary!

He turned around. There she stood. Frozen in the place. Eyes wide and skin pale. She stared into the darkness of the night. She didn't move, didn't seem to see anything, didn't even hear little George wiggle and whine in her arms. She just stood and stared.

Poor Mary! It must be quite a shock for her. Tom heard the door open behind him again. Carson came outside and stopped beside him. Both lost in thought.

Finally Tom sighed heavily and turned to Carson. "Carson, please take Sybbie back to Nanny Nancy and sent her to the library to get George, I'll take care of Mary."

"Very well, sir." The older man nodded approvingly and took the little girl carefully from his arms. "Anything else, sir?"

"I don't know, if Robert or Cora have thought of it, but someone should go to Crawley House and maybe even Dowager House. Matthew didn't look very good … just in case."

"I can do that, sir." Unbeknownst to the two of them, Thomas had joined them.

Tom was surprised about the footman's willingness to help and his politeness. He remembered very well more than one snarky comment from him about the Crawleys in general and Matthew Crawley in particular and he didn't think Thomas had ever addressed him as 'sir' without one of the Crawleys present.

"Thank you, Thomas, that would be a great help." Carson agreed.

The footman nodded and walked towards the car. Before he climbed in, he hesitated and looked back at them. "How much should I tell them?"

"Unless, Mr. Crawley has an identical twin, I think we can be very sure this man, is indeed Matthew Crawley." Carson grumbled.

"Yes, Mr. Carson." Thomas bowed shortly and disappeared with the car into the night.

"Well, Mr. Branson, I will leave Lady Mary to you." the old butler said and carried a smiling and giggling Sybbie inside.

Tom hesitated. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do? Mary was clearly in shock and who could blame her for it. It had been hard enough on her to loose him but to realize that he wasn't dead after all?! He tried imagine how he would have felt, if Sybil had come back to life after two weeks of mourning and missing her, but he couldn't. Then again, he had been there. He had held his wife's hand while she fought these terrible seizures and finally succumbed to them. In a way he had had an opportunity to say his good bye, but Mary had never had that chance. She hadn't even seen Matthew's body … or whoever that body had been, since it obviously wasn't Matthew.

Finally he just put an arm around her and gently led her into the library, where Nancy was already waiting to take George back to bed.

* * *

 _Here you have it! You can't really be surprised since the story is declared as Matthew/Mary story and I clearly stated in the first chapter, that Matthew was my favorite and I never got over his death. So ... XD_

 _For clarification: (1) I have no idea, where exactly Matthew's accident happened in the show, but I'll just decided it was close to Downton, but still outside of the Crawley lands, so the hospital that sent Ally's father away would not have been the one Dr. Clarkson works at. Since everyone there would have probably known and recognized Matthew if not from during the war then from one of the local events or the wedding. (2) As for the question, why bring Matthew to the Abbey instead of the hospital to Dr. Clarkson. Let's just say, the 'Miss' has a mind of her own and doesn't really like people taking away her patient. Anyway, Matthew would be more comfortable at home, I'm sure. (3) I know it seems like I randomly switch between titles, polite addresses and more familiar ones. Truth is, I'm trying to use it depending on who thinks about these people and in what context. So it's Lord Grantham when he talks to Carson, or acts more in his position as an Earl and Robert when he is worried about his daughter or his emotions get the better of him. I don't know if that really makes sense or works, but that's the idea, just in case you were wondering._

 _Next up, Thomas, Violet, Rose and Isobel … a lot of people in one chapter. I wonder if that is going to work. :P_


	5. Chapter 5

_Since I was delayed with the last chapter and will be off on a road trip this weekend, here you get the next chapter already. It's a bit shorter than the last one because I decided to split it and give Isobel her own chapter. ^^_

 _As always nothing belongs to me, except for the story and the characters you do not know from your TV, but please rate and review anyway. ^^_

* * *

Thomas Barrow didn't think. It was probably better that way. He just focused on the dark road ahead, not letting himself dwell on what was going on. That was a skill he had always possessed. What was it to him if the world around him was falling to pieces as long as he was alright? It was not like the world had ever cared for him, so why should he care for the world.

But then the war had happened and challenged his sense of self-preservation to an extreme. He had not joined the army out of duty or selflessness like so many others. Nobody could accuse him of being selfless, O'Brien was right about that much. He had hoped to advance in life, to not have to serve other people for the rest of his life, but the horrors and the devastation of the war had crumbled his pretended strength and force him to see himself for what he truly was, a coward. At first, after he purposefully got himself shot and manipulated his way back to Downton, he had refused this truth, but after a while, he began to realize something very important. It didn't matter!

He had seen so many man succumb to the terrors of the war, had seen them go mad, had seen grown men break down in tears and call for their mothers. Some had run away scared and were shot in consequence, but most of them hadn't. Most had stayed and fought on, not because they were not afraid, they stayed despite their fears, despite the terrors.

After he came back, seeing all the injured soldiers, many of them so much less lucky than himself and so much braver had shown him that the only thing that really mattered was to get through it. To survive. Not to let whatever the world threw at you take you down.

At Downton they didn't understand it. None of them had been at war … at least not in this war. Every time he had heard Lord Grantham complain about the fact that he hadn't really been part of it, he wanted to choke the man. This ignorant, self absorbed idiot! He might be a better employer than most, but he was still a clueless fool. But then Captain Crawley had come home, battered and broken and everything changed.

Of course, Downton had already been a hospital and they had seen the terrors of war, but they hadn't felt it, not really, not until the man they all once considered unworthy and undeserving and who they had grown to respect and appreciate to much, had come back a broken man.

Oh, Thomas remembered well, how little he had cared for the new heir in the beginning. There came this middle class nobody of a lawyer and was suddenly supposed to be treated with respect and why? Just because some distant ancestor of his happened to be related to on of Lord Grantham's ancestors. He hadn't even known how to behave like gentleman. Contrary to Carson, Thomas didn't care about Lady Mary and the supposed injustice of the entail. He just didn't see why he should be forced to serve a man who wasn't any better than himself. He didn't deserve such wealth, in fact, neither did Lord Grantham and his family, but that was an entirely different matter.

It had almost been fun to see how everyone was against Mr. Crawley. Even Carson hadn't been able to hide his true feelings. But with every passing day, with every dinner he had spent at Downton he slowly wormed his way into the hearts of everyone. He was all politeness, charm and whit. Oh certainly he had made mistakes and had offended, but they had all forgiven him for it. Eventually even Lady Mary seemed to warm up to him. Thomas had resented him for it. Everything seemed to fall to him. The money, the title, the acceptance.

And then he had met the man again in the trenches, watching him lead his men into battle and fight side by side with them, Thomas began to think that maybe he did deserve what seemed to have fallen at his feet. Fort Matthew Crawley turned out to be one very rare kind of man. A man Thomas respected.

He had not shown it, but it had pained Thomas almost as much as the family to see him so broken and worse than that, so defeated. A man like him should never be defeated. He had been so relieved when Captain Crawley, for that is who he would always be to Thomas's, had been able to walk again. And when the news arrived of his death, just for a moment, he had not been able to breath and had accidentally dropped the plate he held at the time. After that day he had dropped many more plates and also cups. Maybe Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson realized why, because they never punished him for it. In memory of Captain Crawley, maybe the only man Thomas had ever respected, he had sworn to protect Lady Mary as good as he could, even if it meant dropping a cup once in a while.

Thomas Barrows as a rule, did not care for anyone but himself, yet somehow Matthew Crawley had become the one exception to that rule. As much as that feeling might scare him, he was unbelievably relieved that he was alive.

He passed another car on the road. Lady Edith and the doctor. Shortly after Thomas turned the car and approached Dowager House. He stopped the car and waited for a moment. This would not be easy. With a deep breath he approached the door and knocked. The old lady still refused to have any electricity in the Dowager House.

They all had been surprised by the sever reaction of the old lady to the news of Captain Crawley's death. She had hardly said a word ever since. It was unsettling to see her in such a state. Apparently the family had thought the same way. Lady Cora had persuaded Lady Rose to stay with her and the young woman had reluctantly agreed.

After a moment the door was opened and Thomas pushed past the angry butler, Mr. Granger.

"I need to speak with, her ladyship!" he demanded. No use talking around it and he didn't have the patience to explain. Crawley House was next on his list and he would rather have the old lady's support when dealing with Mrs. Crawley.

Unfortunately the butler was not so willing to accept the nightly interruption without question, but before he could start to argue, Lady Rose came down the stairs.

"What is it? Did something happen?" she whispered.

"Don't bother, dear. I'm already quite awake. Thomas has a rather forceful knock." The Dowager Countess's voice traveled down the stairs shortly followed by the woman herself. She looked old, older than Thomas had ever seen her, but she still held herself with exceptional pride and grace. "Now, Thomas, what brings you here so late at night. I do hope it is good news, we all could use good news. If not I'd prefer it if you returned back to the Abbey and called on us at a more civilized hour."

Thomas smiled, for a moment there, she had almost sounded like her old self. He bowed. "Very good news, Mylady."

"How intriguing. Do tell!" she ordered.

"Mr. Crawley is alive." Thomas bluntly revealed.

Lady Rose, the butler and the Dowager Countess stared at him in shock.

"Well that is indeed very good news." the old lady recovered her usual spark returning to her eyes. "Granger, go wake Simons. There is no reason for us, not to look our best just because Matthew has risen from the dead." smiling she walked back up the stairs to her room, Lady Rose following shortly after.

The butler disappeared to wake the lady's maid and Thomas waited impatiently. One down, one to go. He just hoped, the old lady would be of help dealing with Mrs. Crawley. Thomas was not looking forward to that encounter. He didn't particularly like Captain Crawley's mother. They had clashed too many times over the hospital and Downton during the war years for that. The news about her son were bound to shock her and Thomas preferred to see her as a nosy, opinionated nurse who never stayed out of things that weren't her business he had got to know during the war, not as the grieving, broken mother she now was.

After a surprisingly short amount of time the two ladies returned and took seat in the car.

"Are you sure?" Lady Rose finally found her voice again, when Thomas started the car.

"Yes, Mylady. I saw him myself. It is Captain Crawley."

"But how is this possible?" she further inquired.

"We don't know, Mylady. He was unconscious and apparently ran a high fever. A young woman brought him."

"This wouldn't happen to be her car, would it?" the old lady asked.

"Yes, Mylady, it is. How do you know?"

"I doubt my son would allow such incompetence to leave dirty shoes in one of his cars. Grief or no grief."

In the rear mirror Thomas saw a muddy lady's shoe dangle from her walking stick. "She must have forgotten them. She was in quite a hurry, when she arrived."

"I can see that." she agreed with raised eyebrows. "Thomas, were are you taking us? This is not the way to the Abbey."

"No, Mylad, it is not. Mr. Branson asked me to pick up Mrs. Crawley as well. I thought it would be better, if she had her ladyship's support when I relay the news to her. Which is why I picked you up first."

"Oh dear, how dramatic!" the Dowager Countess said. "You bring good news, not bad ones."

"Sometimes good news can hurt more than bad ones." Lady Rose whispered and stared at her fingers.

* * *

 _Well, what do you think? Do you think I captured the emotions adequately? I honestly quite struggled with this chapter. I wanted one from Thomas's point of view because that scene between him and Matthew in season two in the trenches always intrigued me. Thomas never made a secret of his distaste for Matthew in the first season and yet later he more than once voiced a rather good opinion of him. I just tried to give it some more perspective, but I might have overdone it a bit. Whatever, let's just say I was in a very emotional and tired state and internally already preparing for the Isobel chapter (that I'm not looking forward to!)._


	6. Chapter 6

_Okay, here we go. Isobel's chapter. I must say, I struggled a lot with this. Isobel has never been one of my favorite characters, she has really strong moments and the next scene I just want to punch her in the face. :P So it was really hard for me to try and imagine how she would deal with losing her son. It might also be a factor that I'm not a mother myself and therefore can only imagine the love of a mother to her child. So please bare with me and forgive me, if I don't meet your expectations. I would be glad for any input._

 _I got some very sweet reviews last week from a guest. So I will just have to write my comment to them here, since I can't answer them. ^^ Thank you for them. I was very happy to see that you caught onto some of the thoughts that motivated me to write the chapters the way I did in the first place. I hope you keep enjoying my story. About Isobel answering the door at Dr Clarkson's … I think that might be a bit early especially only two weeks after her son's death xD_

 _As always, Downton Abbey does not belong to me, I'm just fixing the worst part. :P_

* * *

A motorcar drove by. The lights illuminating the bedroom only to leave them in darkness once more.

Once again Isobel Crawley lay wide awake. Sleep just wouldn't come to her no matter how much she craved it. Just a few hours of forgetting, just a few hours when everything was right and well with the world. In her dreams Matthew was alive. She heard him laugh, she saw him smile. In her dreams he was a little boy running towards her after scratching his knee, he was a grown man coming home and telling her he was engaged, he stood in the front of the church waiting for his bride, he was excited when he learned he would be a father. While she was awake all she could see was her beloved son's broken and crushed body. All the blood the broken bones, she hadn't even recognized him and yet it was him. Her sweet, kind boy, her joy and pride … dead, gone forever. She should have listened to Robert and Tom. They hadn't wanted her to come along to identify the body, but she came anyway. She just had to be stubborn, she just had to show strength and now all she could see when she thought of Matthew was his broken bloody body.

Once again the tears started. Angrily she wiped them away. She just wanted to sleep and remember him the way he had been, not the way he had ended. And yet, she feared falling asleep just as much. Because once she fell asleep the moment of waking up drew closer as well. She woke up and just for a second she was happy and everything was right. She bathed in the happy memories of her dream, but then the moment of truth came and she remembered. He was dead and the pain once again crushed her. Never again would he come home and kiss her on the cheek, never again would he ask her for advice. She even missed the few times they had fought. Her boy, her son. Such a good, strong man just like his late father and just as opinionated as herself. He had been their son but he had been better than both of them. Oh! She missed him so desperately.

She heard a knock on the front door, but ignored it. Whoever it was, Molesley would take care of it and send them away. She didn't have any strength left to deal with the world. But than a loud demanding voice rang up the stairs. Cousin Violet? Slowly Isobel sat up. Confusion visible on her face.

And indeed just a moment later the door to her bedroom was pushed open and Violet stormed inside, followed by a confused and pale Rose, a slightly embarrassed Thomas, who immediately turned his back on her and a very confused Molesley in pyjamas.

"Get up! Get dressed! You've stayed in bed far too long as it is." Cousin Violet demanded knocking her walking stick on the wooden floor with a loud klonk.

"In the middle of the night?" Molesley asked perplexed and he was right of course. This was ridiculous. Why was the Dowager Countess of Grantham here in her bedroom in the middle of the night demanding her to get up and get dressed.

"That was hardly my decision, Molesley. So very middle class to inconvenience people at this hour, but it can't be helped. Now, get dressed so we can see your son and hopefully return to bed soon after."

"You want to take me to the cemetery and the middle of the night?"

"Of course not, why would I want to go to the cemetery?" she asked seemingly confused.

"But didn't you just say ..."

"What, oh, no. It seems like your son has managed a surprising reappearing act and I would like to know the details. So, up you get. I will wait downstairs." And as quick as she appeared, she disappeared again.

Isobel still sat in her bed, the blanket pulled up against her chest and looking questioning from Thomas's back to Rose and back again. Lady Rose sighed deeply. She sat down by Isobel and took her hand but not daring to look at her.

"Cousin Isobel, I don't really know how to say this … it seems like … it seems like Matthew is alive."

"What?! Is this some cruel jest?" she whispered.

"No. It's true, Mrs. Crawley. I saw him myself." Thomas assured her still turned facing the wall.

She didn't really know what to do. Matthew was alive? How? Why? "I … I need to get dressed. I need to see him!"

She didn't think about propriety at all she just stumbled out of her bed and looked at her clothes confused. What was she supposed to do with them? Matthew was alive! How could she think of anything else. But she needed to see him. She needed to get dressed. What first? Matthew was alive! Was that even possible?

Suddenly a terrible fear got ahold of her. What if Thomas was wrong? What if it wasn't Matthew after all? Could she face that? Did she even want to know? Maybe she should rather stay here. Not risk breaking her heart again. But what if it was him? Didn't she want to see him? Wouldn't he need her?

She didn't know what to do! She didn't hear Thomas and Molesley leave the room. She looked up startled when Rose gently touched her shoulder.

"Come, I'll help you get dressed and then we will see him." The young woman seemed just as confused and unsure as she felt.

Isobel nodded slowly. With Rose's help she got dressed fast enough and in no time they all sat in the car back to the Abbey, dreading, hoping, scared of what might or might not await them.

It was Carson who opened the door.

"Where is he?"

"In the bedroom, Ma'am."

"So it is true then? Matthew really is alive, how very mysterious." Isobel could hear the Dowager Countess say to Carson but she missed his answer when she ran up the stairs. Only when she arrived on the first floor, did she realize, she didn't even know, where Matthew's bedroom had been.

"This way, Mrs. Crawley." Thomas appeared at her side and let the way down a hallway. Rose quietly following.

They stopped in front of a large wooden door. Low voices came from inside. Thomas was about to open the door, but Isobel stopped him.

Was she really ready? Everyone seemed so convinced it was Matthew, but what if not? Did she really want to know? Yes! She did! She needed to know! She had never run from the truth and she wouldn't start now, whatever might await her inside, she would conquer it. She nodded shortly and Thomas opened the door.

The first thing she noticed was, how full the room was. Robert, Cora, Edith, Dr. Clarkson and a woman in expensive but ruffled clothes and a man in uniform she had never seen before. The next thing was the still figure lying on the bed. Slowly she approached it and stared down.

"Oh my god! It really is him!" Rose exclaimed shocked.

And it was! Here, right in front of her, lay her son, her boy, her Matthew. A sob ripped from her chest and Isobel sank down next to Matthew. Badly shaking she touched his face. He was burning!

"Matthew! Oh my dear dear boy! Can you hear me? It's me, your mother! Matthew, please wake up!" she begged him. "What's wrong with him? Why isn't he awake? Have you given him pain medication? How bad are his injuries? Have you bandaged him properly?" She turned to Dr. Clarkson, but before the man could answer the unknown woman stopped beside her.

"Be thankful, he's asleep. Once he's awake, the real trouble begins. That is, of course, if he ever wakes up." the woman's gaze wandered disapprovingly over all the people present. "But really, there are way to many people here. I must ask you to leave."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm his mother!" Isobel refused. She had just gotten him back! She couldn't just leave!

"I don't care, if you're the Queen of England herself. He's my patient and I make the decisions. Out! All of you!" The woman ordered, emerald green eyes flashing angrily.

Too stunned by this impossible behavior, nobody really objected, when the unknown man guided everyone, except Dr. Clarkson outside.

"Phillip!" The woman called after him. "Get me the housekeeper!" He only nodded. closed the door behind them and disappeared together with Thomas down the hallway to find Mrs. Hughes.

"Unbelievable. Who does the woman think she is?" Robert protested.

"She was rather impolite, but she does have a point, Robert. It's not like we can be of any help inside there. She seems to know what she is doing and Dr. Clarkson is there as well. We will just have to wait." Cora tried to calm him as Carson approached them.

"But I would like to have some answers now! Carson, where is the girl?" The Earl of Grantham demanded.

"I'm afraid, she and her brother took the horse and returned home, Mylord." the butler apologized.

"Damn!"

"If I might, sir. I had Mrs. Patmore prepare something to drink and eat. Maybe you would like to join Mr. Branson, Lady Mary and Lady Grantham in the library while you wait for news."

"Thank you, Carson. That's a wonderful idea." Edith thanked him with a smile.

They made their way to the library and joined the others there.

Tom stood at the fireplace and stared into the flames. Mary sat on one of the couches and Violet opposite her.

"Oh good, you're here. Tell me what happened! These two are of no help." Cousin Violet ordered half excited half annoyed.

"Unfortunately neither are we. The two farm children went already home and the woman who brought Matthew here, threw us out of the room without any information."

"She threw you out? How fascinating! I must meet her!"

Isobel sat down and tuned out the following conversation. This woman! How dare she?! Who was she anyhow?! Isobel was fit to be tied! But then, why had she let her be pushed outside? Matthew was her son after all. Oh, she was just so confused!

She glanced at Mary. Cool composed Mary! Did she feel nothing in all of this?! Just sitting there serene without showing any emotion. Why didn't she scream? Why didn't she cry? For a while Isobel had hoped Matthew's death would bring her closer to her daughter-in-law, that they could comfort each other in such a difficult time. But Mary had rebuffed her again and again, always motionless, always emotionless.

Didn't she care at all?!

Time passed and hardly anyone spoke. The all were lost in their own thoughts. Finally the door opened again and Dr. Clarkson appeared. He looked tired, exhausted.

Robert jumped to his feet. Everyone else looked at the doctor in a mixture of hope and worry, everyone except Mary, who just stared at the folded hands in her lap without any reaction.

"And?" Tom asked.

"Well ..." But the arrival of the unknown woman interrupted him. She had by now lost her hat completely, the long blond hair fell over her shoulders, the stockings were full of mud and even her knee long skirt had some sprinkles. The matching blazer was god knows where and the blouse was crinkled and untidy. All in all the young woman was in a very disheveled state.

"He's calling for you."

Isobel was about to jump to her feet. Of course, he was. She was his mother after all. But at the last moment she realized the words had not been directed at her, but at Mary.

Without saying a word her daughter-in-law rose, but then stopped. Tom approached her. He took her hand, squeezing it once and whispering something in her ear. She just nodded once and, not looking at anyone, followed the unknown woman outside.

* * *

 _What do you think? Was the Miss to harsh? Was Isobel to harsh to Mary?_


	7. Chapter 7

_It took me a while to decide on which path to continue this story. I know, you are probably all curious about the 'Miss' and Mary with Matthew, but that might take a couple of more chapters, so instead we will follow Dr. Clarkson's train of thoughts in this._

 _As always, nothing belongs to me, except for Phillip and Dr. Carrington. Please rate and review._

* * *

Dr Clarkson prided himself in saying he was a rational man. He believed in his five senses, he believed in his abilities without overestimating them but he did not believe in miracles. He had seen to much pain and suffering to do that. No, if someone survived an impossible situation or medical condition it was thanks to the doctors abilities and or a lot of money. How else should you explain the fact that such miracles ever so often happened to the rich and powerful and not the poor and needing. No Dr Clarkson didn't believe in miracles and yet here he was. In Downton Abbey, in the middle of the night, in front of a room full of people, who expected him to explain just how it was possible that a man they had buried not a week ago, a man he himself had seen dying at the scene of a car crash, how it was possible that such a man was now here … alive. Granted he was very sick and the hight fever and infection might still kill him, but he was alive. These people wanted answers, but he wasn't sure he could give them.

Slowly he looked from one to the other. Lord Grantham he had always liked, a good and generous man who cared for others. Lady Grantham and his mother were a different story. Both had made his life complicated at times and forced him to indulge far more in diplomacy and peace keeping than he cared to, especially ever since Mrs. Crawley had come to the village. Some days he might call these three women the bane of his existence. Mrs. Crawley with her constant meddling, Lady Grantham and her mother-in-law with their ever lasting fight over influence. It had almost been a pleasant change of pace to see these two being allies against Mrs. Crawley. Then there was Lady Edith. She didn't have her sisters good looks or charming personality, and if he was being perfectly honest with himself, Dr. Clarkson hardly ever noticed her. The newest addition to the family, Lady Rose. Nobody could overlook her. Young passionate and lively. The doctor was sure she would give her family a lot of trouble in the years to come, but now she was quiet and just as confused and worried as the rest. And Tom Branson, the Irish revolutionary, Lady Sybil's husband and her ultimate rebellion against her family, her upbringing and the society she had been born into. Sometimes he wondered, what Lady Sybil would say if she could see him now … living at Downton with their little daughter, working for her father again, granted it was a far better position, but he still worked for Lord Grantham.

It was also Tom Branson who finally asked the question they all wanted to know, after Lady Mary and this strange woman had silently left the library.

"How is he?"

The doctor sighed heavily. They looked at him with such high hopes and expectations. "I will be honest with you. It doesn't look good. His injuries are not as sever but the pain must be unbearable. Dr Carrington told me, he stayed at the farmhouse without any kind of pain medication for the last two weeks. It's a wonder he didn't die of shock. And now it seems like his injuries are infected. He's running a very high fever and unless we are able to lower it significantly within the next couple of hours he will not survive it."

"I must see to him!" Mrs. Crawley jumped to her feet and was just about to run outside when the driver stood in her way. Where he had come from and how he had slipped into the room without anybody noticing was anyones guess. "Let me pass at once!" she demanded.

"That is not going to be necessary." the man refused. "Everything is being taking care of. Emma knows quite well what she is doing, his wife is there to comfort and take care of him and Mrs. Hughes made sure that there is constantly ice and cold water. There is nothing else anyone can do but wait. Upstairs you will only be in the way."

Everyone held their breath. They did not dare to guess what Isobel Crawley might do now. Before she had been in shock, that was the only explanation why she would have let herself be send away from her son's sickbed but now? She glared at the tall man in front of her, ready to attack at any moment.

"Dr Carrington?" again it was Mr. Branson, who voiced his thoughts.

"Excuse me?" Dr Clarkson asked.

"You said, Dr Carrington told you about Matthew's whereabouts."

"Yes. That is how she introduced herself."

"A female doctor?" Lady Grantham asked shocked. "Is something like that even proper?"

"Dr Carrington, you say?" The Dowager Countess commented at the same moment. "How very interesting." If it was any other woman, Dr Clarkson might have described the smile on her lips as smug, but the old lady clearly knew something that no one else did. Unfortunately it was not his place to ask, despite his curiosity.

And the young woman upstairs did make him very curious. Watching her and speaking to her, he had realized fast, she was indeed a very capable if maybe a bit unconventional doctor. She had surprisingly much experience for a woman or man of her age, he would not guess her to be older than her late twenties. Her knowledge was broad and up to date with newer medical developments and she was very protective and defensive of her patient. Her patient! She had made that very clear. She accepted Dr Clarkson's presence because she knew it would calm down the family but the final say in Matthew Crawley's treatment was hers. Dr Clarkson had no objections to it especially since it was only a matter of waiting now. Waiting and praying and hoping. Should he make it through the night, he might survive.

"Dr Clarkson, in your medical opinion, do you think he will make it?" Lady Edith interrupted the confused silence.

That was indeed the question. If he was honest, no. The injuries in itself were not the problem. They were severe, no doubt, but Mr Crawley was a young and healthy man and with time and treatment he would certainly overcome this obstacle just like all the others before. But his fever! His fever was much to high. It made his way through the already weakened body and would eventually burn him alive. Dr Clarkson did not think the young man would survive the night, but was he really to tell them that? Was there really any harm in letting them hope one more night? And then there was the fact that Dr Carrington seemed very convinced he would make it. The young woman had refused to even entertain the thought of Mr Crawley's death. Dr Clarkson truly hoped she was right.

"I do not know, Lady Edith." he finally settled to answer. "I truly do not know. He might, or he might not. It is up to god and his own inner strength now."

The driver slipped from the room satisfied that his employers wishes were followed. The family settled down, even Mrs. Crawley. Then again, what was there to do but wait?

Dr Clarkson left them to their thoughts and made his way to the kitchen to get some coffee. It would be a long night and he would not leave.

Loud voices filled the hallway of the servants quarters. It seemed like the entire house was awake now.

When he came into the kitchen a surprising scene welcomed him. Mr Bates had pushed Thomas up against the wall, his face contorted with anger. Anna tried to stop him. Mrs Patmore and Daisy calling in between. Dr. Carrington's driver sitting at the table and quietly sipping from a cup O'Brien across from him staring into thin air.

"You think it's funny?! Telling Daisy some cruel joke how Mr Crawley is still alive? Don't you think we're all suffering enough already." Mr Bates demanded furiously.

"But it's true!" Daisy interrupted. "It's not a story, I saw him myself. It's him, isn't it Dr Clarkson?"

They finally realized the newcomer's presents.

"Indeed it is, Daisy. Let him go, Mr Bates. Thomas told the truth. Mr Crawley is alive."

Shocked the valet let the footman go and stared at the doctor. Thomas adjusted his clothes and stared at the Mr Bates bitterly.

"But how is that possible?" Anna whispered.

"That is the question. We don't know." he sat down at the table with a heavy sigh. "Mrs Patmore, might I have a cup of coffee? This will be a long night."

"Of course." the small cook busied herself with the kettle.

"And you might want to sent some up to Dr. Harrington and Lady Mary. They are with him right now." he continued

"I … I'll take it up." Anna mumbled, still in shock. She took a tray from the cook and disappeared up the stairs almost bumping into Mr Carson who just came downstairs.

"Hey! You! You must know, how Mr Crawley is still alive." O'Brien looked at the driver accusingly. All the attention turned to him.

Slowly he rose his eyes staring at her. "Are you talking to me?" he asked emotionless.

"Who else?"

"In that case", he put down his cup, "I do not know, why you buried the wrong man or how he got where he was when we found him."

"Mr ..." Carson started but stopped uncomfortable realizing he didn't even know the man's name.

"Rogers. My name is Phillip Rogers."

"Mr Rogers. I apologize for Mrs O'Brien's behavior but you must understand, we are all rather anxious to know what happened and how. Mr Crawley is a very respected member of the family and his supposed death shattered us all."

"Yes", Mr Rogers whispered, "he has something about him, doesn't he."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, he has a talent to slip into people's hearts and make them care about him almost against their will." he explained staring thoughtfully at his hands.

They looked at the man speechless. But he was right, of course, that is exactly what Matthew Crawley did. Everyone in the house had been determined to dislike him when he arrived all those years ago. He was a nobody and they were supposed to serve him and yet without realizing or meaning to they had all started to like him or at least begrudgingly respect him.

"Well, yes, I suppose so." Mr. Carson finally admitted. "So what can you tell us."

The man looked up shortly before returning to his hands. "Not much. We came to Downton to see Matth … I mean Mr Crawley. When we arrived in the village we heard the bad news. Emm … Dr Carrington decided she didn't want to impose in such a terrible time so we wanted to make our way back. We stopped in a small town further north to take a small lunch. In the pub Dr Harrington heard some men talk. The hospital was closed due to a flue outbreak and that they had even turned away a patient who had been in a bad accident a couple of days ago. She asked them, where the man was now and they told her, so we drove to the farm and there in the kitchen he lay on a makeshift bed."

"And this Dr Carrington is your employer."

"Yes, among other things. But I will not tell you anything about her, so don't even ask. All you need to know is, she is a remarkable doctor and if anyone can save him, it is her. Don't you agree Dr Clarkson?" a small smile on his lips.

"Well, I don't know about her being the only doctor, who can save him but she is certainly very capable. But we won't know more before the morning."

* * *

 _Believe it or not, the reason I took this long, and didn't upload the chapter two days ago already was, because I couldn't decide on a last name for Dr. Emma Carrington. XD Well that truly was a tough decision._

 _Just in case you're curious, the first British female doctor was Elizabeth Garrett Anderson (1836-1917) but in the 1920s female doctors were still very rare and not well accepted. That is actually rather late there were already qualified female doctors in the US and the rest of Europe for more then 100 years._

 _Oh and something I wanted to say for a while now. My thanks goes out to all the people who create these amazing M+M videos on youtube. They are truly inspiring and every time I lack inspiration or drive I spend an hour watching your amazing work and everything is better, unless of course it isn't, because I'm reminded of Matthew's death. XD_


	8. Chapter 8

_Here is the next chapter, this time from Anna's POV_

 _For the guest with the lovely name_ _ **justcurious**_ _: Unfortunately I can tell you right now, that Dr Carrington is not Sybil. Apart from the fact that she is blond and Sybil was brunette I think they would have recognized her. I would really like to let her live, but contrary to Matthew who we didn't really see dieing in the show, we saw Sybil die quite graphically. I do slightly divert from the original of season three with the circumstances of Matthew's 'death' but I don't think I could do it for Sybil. But you're not so far of with your suspicion about the war and someone tending to Matthew. :D_

 _As always, nothing belongs to me except the story and the characters who don't have actors. ^^_

 _Please rate and review, I'm so happy about every single one._

* * *

Anna Bates usually was a busy woman. Being a lady's maid to Lady Mary and helping Mrs. Hughes wherever and whenever she could, filled her time up nicely so that at the end of each day she was happy to return to her little cottage and her husband. How often had she wished for more free time, to be able to sleep in? But during the last two weeks she had learned to dread the silence, the helplessness and the feeling of uselessness that came with a lack of work.

Lady Mary had hardly done anything. She didn't change, she didn't go out, she hardly spoke and Anna was left with nothing to do. But more than the idleness she cursed her own helplessness. She wished she could help Lady Mary, do something to comfort her. They had become so close over the years, almost friends or friends as much as a lady and her lady's maid could be. Anna had knew better than anyone just how much Lady Mary truly loved her husband and had for so many years. She had seen her softer sides, the ones she otherwise hid from everyone but her husband, she had seen her cry when Mr Crawley got engaged to another, had witnessed her devotion when he was injured during the war and the suppressed but unmistakable bubblyness ever since they had gotten engaged. Anna desperately wished she could help, but didn't know how. How to comfort a woman who had lost the man she loved in such a tragic and senseless way, especially after everything they had been through? She couldn't even imagine what she would do should she lose Mr Bates and the possibility for that had been a lot more real than for Lady Mary.

So all Anna could do was to stand by and hope for the best and wait … until tonight.

They had been peacefully asleep when a loud knock on the door and calls woke them. Mr Bates had rolled out of bed, cursing under his breath. Anna had wrapped into her bathrobe. When she came into the kitchen there had been a very distraught Daisy. She had rambled on and on about Mr Crawley and that he was alive and they should come.

Never before had Anna seen her husband so angry as in that moment. He immediately suspected Thomas to be behind such cruel jest but then they arrived at the house and Dr Clarkson revealed the truth. Matthew Crawley was truly alive … for now. Nobody knew how, nobody knew why, but he was alive and for Anna that was enough.

She hurried up the stairs, carrying the tray with coffee and down the hallway. In the family wing she ran into Mrs Hughes.

"Anna! Good, you're here."

"Yes, Mrs Hughes. Daisy got us. I bring coffee."

"Good, good, they are in Lady Mary's old bedroom." the housekeeper passed her.

"Mrs Hughes? It is true then? It's really Mr Crawley?"

"Oh yes, it is. But it does not look good. I'm not sure he will ..." she didn't seem to dare to finish her thought.

"What shall we do? … in case Mr Crawley does not survive?" Anna felt physically ill saying it.

"Oh, Anna. We can just hope he will. I doubt Lady Mary would ever recover otherwise. What a cruel twist it would be if she got her husband back only to lose him all over again hours later." The housekeeper stared sadly down the hall and left. The last two weeks had changed the housekeeper's opinion of Lady Mary more than anyone ever thought possible, Anna knew. Mere months ago Mrs Hughes would never have said something like this.

Yes, what a cruel twist, but maybe not. Maybe Mr Crawley would survive after all. Anna hoped so, she had to hope. For Lady Mary, for his little son, for his mother, for Lord Grantham … for all of them. Matthew Crawley was the future of Downton Abbey, he had saved it already and only he could lead it into a new time. God could not be so cruel to take him away again. He just couldn't! Anna had to believe that. She took a deep breath, sent a silent but fierce prayer to heaven and entered the room.

A small fire was lit in the fireplace, making it comfortably warm but not too warm. Next to the large bed sat Lady Mary on a chair while another woman leaned over it and in the bed … Anna gasped for breath. Of course they had all said, he was still alive, and yet, she hadn't really believed it, but here he lay. No mistake. Matthew Crawley was alive!

The woman looked up. She was very pretty despite the inappropriate attire. Her clothes were dirty, her hairstyle not recognizable anymore and she was barefoot, but she was indeed very beautiful. With her long golden hair and the crystal blue eyes she could have been Mr Crawley's twin sister.

"And you would be?"

"Anna, Ma'am." she curtseyed. "I'm Lady Mary's lady's maid. I brought you some coffee and bread." she held up the tray.

A bright smile appeared on the woman's face. "Fantastic! Thank you, Anna. I'm Dr Carrington and coffee is exactly what we will need to get through the night."

Anna put the tray down and started to pour the coffee.

"No … no! Mary! Don't … don't hurt her! Mary!" Mr Crawley's voice was hoarse and panicked. Throwing his arms left and right, trying to get up and moaning in pain it seemed like he was trying to fight an invisible enemy.

Shocked Anna watched as Lady Mary leaned over him speaking in a low calming voice. "I'm here, Matthew. I'm fine. Nobody is hurting me. Please calm down, darling."

But he didn't seem to hear her, he still called her name in panic. Suddenly he grabbed her arm in a painful grip. Lady Mary whimpered and tried to get away, but to no avail. Dr Carrington intervened, with one very precise and strong movement she stop him.

"He doesn't hear you. He's to deep in his fever dream. We need another way to calm him down or he will hurt himself even more."

The three women stood back and watched helplessly as the sick man trashed in his bed still moaning and calling his wife's name.

"Phillip!" Dr Carrington whispered and turned to Anna. "Anna, do you know my driver?"

Anna thought for a moment and remembered the tall man sitting in the kitchen. She nodded.

"Good! Tell him what happened and bring him here."

"Yes, doctor!" Anna agreed relieved to be able to do something, even if she didn't know what it would help. She ran down the hallway and back into the kitchen as fast as she could, hoping he was still there.

And he was and so was Dr Clarkson.

Anna gasped for breath. "Come, fast! He's trashing in his bed and Dr Carrington is scared, he might hurt himself!"

Dr Clarkson jumped to his feet. Before Anna could tell him, she hadn't spoken to him, he was already out of the kitchen and up the stairs."

"But I didn't mean him." Anna looked after him slightly helpless.

"You were speaking to me." The tall man finished her thought. Slowly he rose from his seat and grabbed a black case from the floor.

"Would you be so kind as to show me the way? I'm not sure I would find it again." He was polite and calm. Surprisingly polite and calm given the situation and he did not seem to be in any hurry. He thanked Mrs Patmore for the coffee gave the other servants present a short nod and left the kitchen, Anna close behind.

When they reached the bedroom they could hear the two doctors argue.

"We need to keep him calm, or he might make his own injuries worse!" Dr Clarkson demanded.

"I agree, but I would prefer it if we didn't strap him down for it! He's having flashbacks about the war combined with his fears for his wife. To strap him to the bed would only increase his panic. Oh, Phillip, there you are, good." she looked up, relieve visible in her eyes.

The tall man gave a short nod, but didn't say anything. His eyes rested on the sick man in the bed, full of sweat and still calling for the woman who was standing right next to him. Unable to help she could only stare at him, hands tightly intertwined to stop herself from touching him.

The man, Phillip, put down his case, opened it and retrieved a … violin. He sat down on the window sill and rose the instrument to its rightful position. With a soft sigh he closed his eyes and started to play. A sweet and beautifully sad melody began to fill the room.

Dr Clarkson stopped arguing and looked at the driver full of surprise, Lady Mary still stared at her husband and so did Dr Carrington. As if she waited for something.

Anna felt a single tear running down her cheek and whipped it away. Surprised she realized the music was now the only sound filling the room. Mr Crawley had stopped moaning and moving. He was still covered in sweat and breathing heavily but seemed calmer, more relaxed.

"This is remarkable!" Dr Clarkson whispered.

"Yes, it is." his college agreed now looking at her driver. "He was after all one of this country's most talented violinists before the war broke him." a sad smile on her lips. "Phillip, how long can you do this?"

He slowly opened his eyes and looked at her without missing a single tone. "As long as he needs me to do it." was his simple answer.

Dr Carrington turned to Anna again. "Could you please get more cold water? And keep bringing it, we will need a lot."

Anna curtseyed and returned to the kitchen speechless.

"Anna, do they need help?" Mrs Hughes asked seeing her. The servants now sat all around the large kitchen table silently drinking coffee and waiting.

"I don't think so? Oh, cold water, they want more cold water … He's playing the violin." Anna was still too stunned to think logical. She slowly sank onto the bank next to her husband and unconsciously cuddled up to him. While Mrs Patmore sent one of the maids up with new cold water and linen.

"Who is?" Mr Carson wanted to know with his typical raised eyebrows.

"Phillip." she mumbled.

"Mr Rogers? The driver? But why?" her husband asked confused, wrapping one arm around her in comfort.

"I don't know. Mr Matthew was having a bad dream, a flashback to the war, the doctor said. He was calling for Lady Mary and trashing in his bed. Phil … Mr Rogers came and started playing and suddenly he just calmed down. From one moment to the next he just … stopped."

The kitchen was silent. Stunned by this news.

"There was a story. During the war, at the front. They said that there was a soldier serving under Cap … Mr Crawley who used to play the violin in between the battles." Thomas mused more speaking to himself than anyone in particular.

"You think that's him?" O'Brien asked.

The two hadn't been friends in a while, Anna knew, but there was no hostility between them now.

"Who else could it be? Two man both knowing Mr Crawley, both playing the violin to calm him. That would be quite a coincidence." Thomas mumbled. Indeed for the moment all hostility was forgotten. All wars were off.

"So maybe the war is where Mr Crawley and that woman met?" Jimmy suggested.

"Who has ever heard of a female doctor?" Alfred suddenly asked. "I wouldn't want to be treated by a woman."

"Don't be daft! Why shouldn't a woman become a doctor, if she's clever enough?" Daisy hit him with a towel furiously.

"And there is still Dr Clarkson in case something goes wrong." Mr Carson reminded the group.

"I wonder how there doing up there." Ivy mumbled.

"Badly I suppose." Mr Bates answered.

"Why?" Alfred was confused. "Shouldn't they be happy he's alive?"

"Yes, and I'm sure they are. But what if he still dies? How will they deal with that? We all have seen how poorly they managed the last two weeks, how poorly we all managed. Now they have hope. What if that hope is disappointed? Sometimes a false hope is worse than no hope at all."

"For Lady Mary that is certainly true. She is frozen. Like she can't let herself hope out of fear that her heart will be broken all over again."

* * *

 _What do you think of my little musical-moment (meaning: people suddenly burst into song and music)? I couldn't resist trying it. I do believe music reaches us on a deeper level than words can, if even animals react to different kinds of music than why not a man in a fever dream?_

 _And, I finally remembered about Jimmy, Ivy and Alfred. I don't really know why, but they are not really part of my inner canon. I guess I'm missing the emotional connection to them. XD_


	9. Chapter 9

_In advance, I am sorry for the long pretext this time. Just bare with me. :P_

 _I got a review asking to stop with the POV chapters … I was thinking about that as well because I am kind of getting tired of them (at the same time I enjoy discovering all the different angles and relationships immensely). But the biggest problem is: it would be rather inconsequential of me from a writers perspective to just change the writing style of the story. So instead I decided to continue with the POV chapters (at the moment it looks like three more chapters) after that I will finish this story and continue in a sequel that will follow, to a degree, the developments of season four but incorporate my new characters and a lot of backstory. So you will not learn who exactly Emma Carrington and Phillip Rogers are and how they are connected to Matthew here, but in the sequel. The change of story gives me the possibility to start writing in a less challenging and less emotional style and maybe have a little more actual story development… or so I hope xD_

 _This chapter is going to be from Cora's POV._

 _As always, nothing belongs to me except for the things and people you haven't seen on tv. Please rate and review._

Cora Crawley, Countess of Grantham was exhausted. She was desperately trying to maintain the dignity her position and the situation seemed to demand of her and she was failing miserably. The family was still in the library, now hours after Matthew's surprising resurrection. None of them had wanted to leave before they got news. Outside the sun was slowly painting the sky in a soft pink, day was coming and still nothing.

The questions had stopped hours ago. Why? How? Who? It didn't matter anymore. After liter over liter of coffee exhaustion and numbness had taken over.

Robert had tried to persuade his mother and Rose to return to Dowager House, promising to keep them informed but the two women had refused. He hadn't even tried it with Isobel. The thought alone seemed preposterous. The shock was clearly written into the woman's face. First losing her child then suddenly getting him back only to be thrown out of his sickroom. She had gone upstairs at one point. Like a warrior on her way to the battle had she climbed the stairs only to return shortly after, helpless, confused and even more shaken than before. She only answered Tom's question with a shrug and a low, "I can't bare to see him die." And she started to cry. Rose sat down next to her wrapping her in a comforting hug.

Matthew's death had been a revelation for Cora in many ways. She felt like she hadn't really known her family before. Never had she seen Isobel so … so weak and broken like in the last two weeks. But that was to be expected, what she hadn't expected where the reactions of the rest of the family. Of course she had known they all loved Matthew, especially Robert who saw him as something of a surrogate son, but she had not realized just how important he had become to all of them during the last years.

The least unexpected behavior might have come from Tom. He had tried to help where he could, while quietly mourning the loss of his friend and brother-in-law. No, Cora had not been worried about him. Tom was strong, he would get through it. What had her worried was the fear Tom might distance himself from the family after Matthew's death. Cora had tried her best to make him feel like part of the family and she knew Violet, Robert, Edith and Mary had done the same and yet, she was not ignorant enough to overlook that the only person Tom had really felt at ease with had indeed been Matthew. With the rest of them he always seemed to be on guard, trying not to say the wrong thing, trying not to offend, but not with Matthew. They both had been outsiders to a degree. They both had married into the family coming from a different social standing than them and they had been the same age. It was natural for them to gravitate towards each other. And Cora was worried that now, without Matthew, Tom might decide to leave and take Sybbie with him. The only part of her sweet, sweet baby daughter she had left.

Edith on the other hand had been a surprise, a good one, but nonetheless a surprise. Never had Cora seen her so strong and determined to do what had to be done. Matthew's death seemed to have awoken an inner strength in her middle daughter, she had never known there was at all. Edith had been surprisingly selfless and very effective in handling the funeral preparations and everything that came with it when neither Cora herself nor Isobel or Violet let alone Mary were up to the task.

A surprise of the negative kind had been Violet. Never had Cora seen her mother-in-law so … old. Of course she knew that Violet was an old woman and would eventually die, but she had never really expected it to happen … until Matthew. She just seemed so invincible. When she heard the news all color had drained from her face and she had almost fainted, something Cora had never seen before. Despite all the differences they had had over the years she had always admired and respected the Dowager Countesses strength and resilience and to see her like this had shocked Cora more than she cared to admit.

And Robert? Her husband of so many years? It always amazed her to remember that by now she had spent more years of her life with him than without him. He had always been there, through good and bad and they had had breathtakingly good and horribly bad times but never, never had he seemed so helpless and disorientated. He buried himself in his paperwork, yet Cora doubted he actually did anything but look at it.

Her gaze travelled from one family member to the next finally resting on Rose. Good, sweet Rose. She had come immediately after she got news of Matthew's death to support them in their mourning. Cora honestly thought, the young woman's company might be the only thing that had kept Violet going these last two weeks. But she had been surprised to see the young woman's very emotional reaction to the situation. As far as she knew Matthew and Rose had hardly spent any time together and yet, if the young woman's tears at the funeral were any indication, there had been more to their relationship than she had previously thought. But then Rose's relationship with Matthew had obviously not been the only one she had underestimated. Shortly she remembered Rose's introduction of Matthew to her father. Defender of the downtrodden.

Cora prided herself in being a practical and rational woman. More than once had she rolled her eyes at Robert's emotional attachment to his inheritance and Downton Abbey, but maybe that was exactly the reason she sometimes underestimated matters of the heart. And never had she been so wrong about anyone other than Matthew and anything other than Mary's love for him.

After Patrick's death almost ten years ago, she had been angry. She had expected Robert to fight for Mary, for her future and everything that was supposed to be hers, but in hindsight she had been mostly angry with herself. She had let her father-in-law talk her into signing away all her fortune instead of saving at least part of it for future daughter's and it had left Mary in an impossible situation. But instead of doing what was best for their daughter, Robert had insisted on doing what he thought right for Downton.

To make matters worse, Matthew Crawley, the new heir had turned out to be charming, intelligent, kind and worst of all understanding of their disappointment and attempts to break the entail. Oh of course he had also been unknowing, occasionally inconsiderate and middle class, but it was nothing that couldn't be remedied with time. She had known that almost from the first moment she had met him and she had been right. Almost without realizing it, Cora had started to like him, to consider him part of the family, certainly more than she had ever considered Patrick to be part of the family.

Once she realized her own changing feelings, she had started to push Mary on him, knowing that the only way her eldest daughter would ever be mistress of the house would be, if she married the future Earl. She should have realized trying to force her daughter into something would only make her more determined to act against it. And then the whole mess with Mr Pamuk had happened. Cora didn't know if she could ever truly forgive her daughter for putting her in such a position, not only because she had done what she did and the man had ended up dead in her bed, but because she had let it destroy her relationship with Matthew. She should have just kept her mouth shut and married him back then. Instead she had lost Downton and the love of the future Earl and a truly decent man. Matthew had disappeared from their lives for almost two years and probably only returned because of the war. There had been the almost catastrophe with Richard Carlile for Mary and Lavinia Swire for Matthew, not one but two ill advised engagements. Cora was not proud that she had called Lavinia back to Downton when Matthew was paralyzed, but at the time she had been sure she was doing the best for her daughter's future. Robert had been furious with her for getting involved. Sometimes she didn't understand him. Did his love for Matthew really blind him to the future he was condemning Mary to if she stayed with a man in his condition? Hearts could change, but marriages in their social class where forever. At least that was what she had thought. Only in the last two weeks had she began to realize that might not apply for Mary and Matthew.

Cora knew her daughter. She knew Mary kept her feelings locked up inside her and hardly ever showed them to anyone. The stronger the feelings the less she showed them. Mary's complete stillness after Matthew's death had scared her out of her mind. She had tried absolutely everything she could think of to get her out of that shell and make her show her feelings. She had tried to talk to her, had tried to get her to talk to Isobel, had tried to distract her, had tried to comfort her. In a desperate last attempt she had even considered inviting some old friends, hoping a new love might distract her. But even before Robert had shouted at her for even thinking about it, had she realized how stupid the idea was. She was only glad, she hadn't suggested it to Mary. She didn't think her daughter would have ever forgiven her for the idea.

It might have taken her years but Cora had finally realized that the future position, the title, even Downton had not factored into Mary's acceptance of Matthew's proposal. Mary might not know it herself but her mother had began to understand that her daughter would have married Matthew regardless of any worldly situations. She would have been happier in a cottage with a middle class life, than she could ever be without him, because she deeply, truly loved him.

And right now, her poor daughter was upstairs in her old bedroom, a room she hadn't even been able to go into after her husband's loss, and tended to the man she loved, hoping he would survive the night.

Lady Grantham hardly ever prayed but at this moment she turned her eyes outside to the morning sky and spoke a silent but heartfelt prayer to god, for her heartbroken daughter, her son-in-law she had mistreated so many times and her newborn grandson, who did not deserve to have to grow up with a broken mother and a dead father.

Suddenly the library door opened and Anna came into the room. Nobody but her seemed to realize it. Anna was flushed and out of breath, but she smiled. She smiled!

Cora didn't dare to hope, slowly she rose from her seat. "Is he awake?" she whispered alarming the others to the newcomer.

"No, Mylady." she still smiled. "But his fever broke. It's going down. He's going to make it!"

"Ha!" Robert called. He jumped to his feet a bright smile on his face. "I knew he would make it, he just had to!"

Isobel just started to sob all over again, but this time of relieve. Rose comforted her with a big smile on the lips and tears in her eyes. Tom collapsed to the carpet breathing heavy, tears running down his face. Edith kneeled next to him and wrapped her arms around him comforting him as much as herself. And Cora, she turned her face towards heaven and silently thanked god for his mercy.

"Well, I always knew those wild middle class years in Manchaster had to be good for something." Violet announced looking years younger and actually smiling a genuine happy smile. "Now Anna, if you would be so good and prepare some rooms for Mrs Crawley, Lady Rose and myself. I for my part need some sleep."

"Of course, your ladyship. I'll just bring the good news downstairs." and she disappeared still smiling brightly.

 _Yes! I finally managed to explain why Rose was there! I only recently realized that Rose had in fact still been with her parents when Matthew died. That was my mistake, so here is my solution to undo it. :P_

 _Maybe now you understand better how Cora could have suggested a new man for Mary only two weeks after Matthew's death. I wonder how they will resolve that misunderstanding. ^^_

 _I know hardly anything happened here and you don't really learn anything new, but I felt it was necessary to revisit some things of the past, since the relationship between Cora and Matthew was, at times, rather strained._

 _I don't know, if I said it before so I'm gonna do it now. I have absolutely no medical knowledge I just write it as it comes to me. No idea if two weeks of coma is possible or probable if a fever from infections can break in just one night or not. So please excuse all the mistakes I made in that regard._


	10. Chapter 10

_I deeply apologize, I know, I was very very bad. Personal problems and a huge lack of inspiration and motivation stopped me from writing. I hope you will forgive me and enjoy the last chapter of this story._

 _As always, nothing belongs to me except for Phillip and Emma._

 _Please rate and review._

* * *

Days had passed since Anna came storming into the kitchen baring the good news. The joy and relieve in the faces had been apparent and no one had cared to hide it. They had laughed and smiled, they had hugged and in case of Anna and Mr Bates, kissed each other. And for once Mr Carson did not feel like reprimanding any of them. His own relieve was too overwhelming, too strong.

Mrs Hughes in her never ending wisdom and foresight had had already prepared the rooms for Mrs Crawley, the Dowager Countess and Lady Rose. One by one the family retired to their respective rooms and beds, trying to get some much needed sleep. The servants following their masters example soon after.

By the morning news had travelled to the village and a steady flow of visitors and well wishers started to arrive. They brought flowers and food and came to bring or receive the occasional dose of gossip. The old Mrs Harper went on and on about, how she had always known, that man couldn't be Mr Crawley until her grandson gently but persistently forced her away. Yet her words fell on fruitful ground and by the end of the week at least half of the village were convinced they had always known Mr Crawley was still alive. After all, God was merciful and would not take away such a good and kind man so shortly after becoming father for the first time.

Slowly but steadily Downton returned to its old self and its inhabitants to their daily routine. And if their ways led them past Mr Crawley's room more often than really necessary, nobody said anything.

At the end of the week Mr Crawley's fever had almost completely disappeared, but he had yet to awaken. Dr Carrington and Dr Clarkson both assured this was not uncommon and by no means reason for worry. Finally Anna even succeeded in prying Lady Mary away from her husband's bedside, so she could at least take meals with the family. Yet she always returned to his side within the hour.

There was really not much to do, except for watching him sleep and, hopefully, recover. Always by Mr Crawley's bedside was Dr Carrington. The young woman ate and slept in his room, never leaving him for more than a few minutes. Her dedication was admirable and yet also troublesome. What exactly was her relationship with Mr Crawley, the entire house wondered. A question she had yet to answer and had elegantly evaded whenever it was posed.

Her driver was only slightly less puzzling. He hardly spoke with anyone and was, at times, almost rude. Once a day he would take his violin to Mr Crawley's room and play for the sleeping man for several hours.

One night, ten days after the fever had broken, Lady Mary sat once again at her husband's bedside. All this time, she did not allow herself to dwell on the possibility he might live. What if she hoped and he died anyway? She knew, she would never get over losing him again. So she sat at Matthew's bedside, changed his sheets and clothes whenever he sweat through them, cooled his forehead with miles of wet bandages and refused to hope, refused to think. For a while she had distracted herself by listening to Dr Carrington's driver play the violin, but eventually he put the instrument down and stared blankly out of the window.

Dr Carrington sat on a chair in the corner, quietly reading a book.

"How did you know?" Mary finally voiced the question, most pressing on her mind.

Dr Carrington looked up.

"About the mark on his shoulder. The girl said, you told her to mention the mark on his shoulder, should we not believe her." Lady Mary clarified.

The doctor smiled thoughtful. "Oh, that. A flower and a cross, rather poetical, isn't it?" She grinned. "Don't worry, nothing inappropriate ever happened between Matthew and me. We don't have that kind of relationship. I know about it, because I'm responsible for the cross … so to speak. I was a field doctor during the war. My field dressing station was close to where Matthew was stationed. Every time one of his men got injured, he would come to check on them. Over time we became friends."

"Matthew hardly ever speaks about the war." Mary mumbled.

"That is not surprising. No one who wasn't there, could ever understand the horrors of what we saw."

"Would you try to explain it to me?" Mary asked. "I know he still has nightmares, and I wish, there was something I could do for him."

"I was never at the front, so I can not tell you, what Matthew experienced, but I can tell you what I saw." the other woman looked at her over Matthew's unconscious body.

Mary looked up. "Please."

"All right." Dr Carrington hesitated. "I know, from the letters Matthew sent me, you worked as a nurse, during the war and your home was a place of recuperation, so you have seen with your own eyes how much these men suffered. But you have to realize, what you saw … were the lucky ones. I lost more men out there, than I could safe, and I was considered to have a good survival quota. I can't tell you how many limbs I amputated in those few years, how much blood and flesh I cut and burned. Sometimes it felt like the blood was everywhere and I would never get rid of it again. Most days I felt more like a butcher than a doctor. I saw young boys hardly old enough to be out of school, who had been blown to pieces … screaming for their mothers … begging me to kill them, to end their suffering."

"Yes, but that is not the terrible part. Not really." Interrupted Rogers her. The tall man sat on the window seal, staring outside into the sky. After a moment he continued. "Most of us volunteered, you know? I suppose you do, since Matthew also was a volunteer. Yes, we were idealistic fools, but we weren't idiots. We might not have known about the extend of the horrors, but we expected them. The blood, the dirt, the pain, the cold … all of it. What we were not prepared for, was how the war would change us inside."

"Inside?" Mary whispered, not entirely sure, she really wanted to know.

"Yes." he mumbled. "War brings out the worst in us. I'm not talking cowardice or fear, we all were afraid, we all thought about running at least once. I'm talking about cruelty. I'm talking about the worst parts of human nature. You can not possibly imagine, what kind of atrocities seemingly ordinary men committed during this war, how many of them turned into monsters ..."

"Phillip!" Dr Carrington interrupted, he looked at her surprised. "It's enough." Mr Rogers turned back to stare outside of the window.

"It's true. The war did change many men for the worse. But it also brought out the good in some people. Your husband, for example." Dr Carrington said to Mary.

She nodded slowly without really understanding what the other woman was trying to tell her.

"Seeing the horrors of this war, devastated him. Every death broke his heart a bit more. Every man he lost. Many commanding officers dealt with this by distancing themselves from their men. They started thinking of them as numbers on a spread sheet, but not actual people. It is easier, I think, not to feel, but it is also dangerous, for it can turn you into something less than human. Matthew was one of the few who managed to walk the narrow path between feeling to much and not feeling at all. He cared for every single on of his men. They were his motivation not to break, keeping them safe … or as safe as they could be under the circumstances."

"You think, he is still controlling himself? More than two years later?"

"Yes … you should be prepared. Eventually he will have to confront his suppressed emotions or he will break." Dr Carrington walked over to the bed. Carefully she checked Matthew's pulse and temperature. Seemingly satisfied she returned to her book.

Lady Mary lost herself in her thoughts. She tried to imagine what Matthew truly had been through during the war. But even with the descriptions Dr Carrington had just provided she couldn't and she was certain, there were things that she hadn't said. What had Mr Rogers wanted to say before she interrupted him?

Shortly after Anna came to take her to dinner. For the first time she followed her willingly. She had many things to think about and a separation from the people who had provided the questions, might be a good idea.

Since Matthew's return the family had started to gather for meal times again. Rose, Granny and Isobel spent came before breakfast and left after dinner. Even her mother had stopped taking her breakfast in bed.

When she entered the room, everyone looked up. Silently she sat down next to Tom.

"Any news about Matthew?" her father asked.

Mary only shook her head. Ever breakfast and every dinner, he asked her the same question. "But I asked Dr Carrington, how she knew him." She finally said.

Everyone stopped eating.

"And?"

"Apparently she was a field doctor at the front. Over the years they became friends."

"My. How curious! A female doctor!" the Dowager Countess said.

"It is not that unusual anymore. There are universities who permit women to study medicine. At it will only become more in the next years." Isobel commented.

"And why shouldn't it?" Edith asked. "It's not like women haven't dealt with blood as long as humans exist. And the nurses at the front were also women. Why not let them study medicine?"

"Edith, please. This is hardly a moment for your political opinions." her mother tried to stop her and Edith reluctantly kept silent.

Dinner continued silently until Anna came running into the room.

"Anna, this is starting to become a habit with you." Lord Grantham reprimanded her ironically.

"No, My Lord." she caught her breath, but grinned from ear to ear. "Mylady, come fast! Mr Crawley is waking up!"

A second of shock passed, but then everybody jumped to their feet and hurried into the hall, up the stairs and to Matthew's room.

At the door they stopped and took the picture before them in.

Matthew still lay motionless in the white sheets, Dr Carrington was bowed over him, the hand gently resting on his cheek. Mr Rogers was still at his position at the window, but all melancholy and thoughtfulness had left his expression and he observed the situation.

Matthew slowly blinked and opened his eyes. He gaze reluctantly focusing on the woman leaned over him. He closed his eyes again, a low groan escaped his lips.

"Please tell me, I'm not in France!" his voice was hoarse and raw but unmistakably his.

She smiled innocently at him. "Where else would you be? Have you not heard about the new orders? All female medical personal is to wear pumps and silk dresses, while attending the sick. It makes them so much prettier to look at, don't you think? And for our especially worshiped heroes we even rebuild their future bedrooms and fly in their future wives."

"Mary?" he whispered, eyes still closed.

Dr Carrington gently turned his face. "Turn your head and see for yourself."

Slowly he did as he was ordered. And there she was. Mary! His Mary. She stood at the door, silent tears running down her cheeks, both hands covering her mouth. He smiled and tried to lift his hand from the bed calling her to him. "Mary."

A painful sob was ripped from her chest and in the next moment she was on the bed, wrapping her arms around him as much as possible and hiding her face in the crock of his neck. Her whole body shock violently as she finally let go of all the tears, all the fear, all the pain.

Everyone else had tears in their eyes watching the reunion they had thought impossible. They hardly understood the muffled words coming from Mary.

"I love you! I love you so, so much! Please, don't ever leave me again!" she begged through her tears holding on to him even tighter.

"I won't, I promise. Never again! Oh, my darling! I love you so much!" Matthew, tears in his eyes, mustered all his energy and wrapped his arms around his desperately crying wife pulling her closer. Both holding onto each other for dear life.

Silently Dr Carrington ushered everyone out of the room, a wide grin on the lips. Just before she closed the door, they heard Matthew's voice again. "Phillip, get Emma into a bed. She needs sleep."

Mr Rogers rose just an eyebrow looking at his lady. "The man does know you."

Dr Carrington rolled her eyes and without another word she disappeared down the hall to the room, Mrs Hughes had prepared for her a week ago, but which was, as of yet, unused, leaving the Crawley family behind, torn between confusion, utter joy and amusement.

* * *

 _Ok, I admit it, I had tears in my eyes writing this. Which was slightly awkward since I wrote it sitting in a train surrounded by a Danish school class returning from a trip. :P But so worth it._

 _Oh yes, I don't remember exactly but I don't think Mary ever told Matthew she loved him. He told her all the time (especially in season three, curse you Julian Fellows for making him dieing even more painful, especially upon rewatching) but she always only said it back. I don't remember her ever saying the words 'I love you'. If I'm wrong, please correct me. Anyway I thought, why not let her make a really grande declaration of love and let her act completely untypical._

 _That's it for now. I will eventually post a sequel, but right now, I have other stories to write. If you don't want to wait for answers to the questions I have not given yet (for example, who died in Matthew's stead and how he survived) you can pm me, maybe I will spoiler you (yes, I actually do know how. xD)_


End file.
